Enough
by Adam Hunt
Summary: AU- Modern Day. Charles is a waiter. Erik is a customer. And a bamf.
1. Chapter 1

"I'm just saying, you should check it out! Lots of people are going there. It's the bees' knees." Hank McCoy wiggled his eyebrows at his smaller best friend and picked up the tray of now re-filled salt and pepper shakers, heading over to re-stock the tables.  
>"Hank the fact that you even refer to anything being 'the bees' knees' is alarming and I'm considering terminating our friendship." Charles smirked at his much taller friend and finished wiping down the counter, mentally storing away their conversation for a later time.<p>

The diner was barely busy, although a 24 hour joint the 3 am shifts were always the slowest. Charles sighed and leaned back against the counter, taking out his phone and messing around with it. Charles and Hank were both students at NYU, both there on scholarships, and both with above a 4.0 GPA. People called them 'The Brain Brothers', mainly because they were never seen without one another and because of the loud debates they would get into about the Mytosis of cells during their lunch breaks in Washington Square Park. They grew up together upstate, applied to school together, and got in together. They lived together, worked together, and studied together. Hank and Charles were bound by a ridiculous tight string of friendship and no one was ever going to change that. Everyone had thought they were a couple until Hank made it perfectly clear that Charles, although incredible handsome and charming, was NOT his type.

Their shift dragged on until 7 am when humanity started to trickle in for their Saturday morning pancakes. By 8:45 the diner was packed and Charles was running around like crazy giving people their food and refilling drinks. At one point he almost impaled himself on a broom handle after a dangerous slip on a pickle but he crisis was quickly averted and he managed to save himself before bleeding out all over the black and white linoleoum flooring. He walked back to the counter and caught Hank staring across the room.  
>"Hank, stop ogling. You look like a goldfish." Charles smirked and stuffed some more straws into his apron.<br>"I'm not ogling, but over there keeps looking at you. I...think I'll sit this one out." Hank grinned and gave Charles a nudge toward the blonde customer sitting at the booth across the room. Charles ran a hand through his shaggy brown hair and walked over to the man. "Can I get you something to drink?"  
>The man smiled slyly, leaning back against the booth, a long stemmed red rose laying on the table next to a hard-cover novel. His blonde hair framed his face perfectly and his tanned skin brought out the grey in his eyes, making him look like some kind of other-worldly creature. As he spoke, the words seems to drip off his tongue in a rich baritone.<br>"I'll have a cranberry juice. And since you're already here I'll take the house soup as well." He looked at Charles' name tag, "..your name isn't slim."  
>Charles smirked and picked up the menu from the table. "Your deduction skills are superb, sir." He smiled and turned, walking back to behind the counter where he put in the man's order on the touchscreen computer. Hank literally popped out of nowhere.<br>"He seems like a briefs kind of guy. I thought boxers at first but now that I'm really looking, I think briefs. Thoughts?"  
>Charles jumped and then rolled his eyes, smiling. "I was thinking commando, actually. He reeks of over-confidence. Hey, don't you work here? Get the fuck back to work." He gave Hank a shove and laughed.<br>"Oh, baby I love it when you boss me around." Hank winked and then turned, sauntering off. Charles smiled to himself and worked his way around the room, going back to the kitchen to get mystery man's food and grabbing his drink from the counter. He set everything down in front of him and smiled, resting his hands on his hips. "Anything else I can get for you?"  
>The man sipped his drink and smiled up at him, looking almost predatory. "You have the most beautiful eyes. They remind me of the ocean in Bermuda. Have you ever been?"<br>Charles visibly colored. "No...Nope. I haven't. But thank you." He looked over and his eyes rested on the rose, "Who's the rose for?"

The man's smile grew even more, he picked it up and began running his fingers over the petals. He looked at Charles like he was trying to figure something out and then held it out towards him. "You."

Before Charles could respond a deep voice came from the booth behind the man's head, "How much was the bet?"

Rose-Man raised an eyebrow and turned his head to look behind him at the stranger,"Excuse me?"  
>The stranger turned his head so Charles could see half of an incredibly gorgeous face, the chisled jawline, the accenuated cheekbones and the straight nose of a model, Charles swallowed.<br>The stranger continued, "How much. was the bet."  
>Rose-man was now fumbling for his words, visibly put-off by the stranger's accusations, "I have no idea what you're talking about."<br>"You were in here yesterday, I know because I was sitting behind you then as well, you were with another man and you were betting on how long it would take for you to get into his pants. So tell me. Was it 200 or 500." The stranger was standing now, haven risen to his full height and now was fulling facing Charles, Charles was able to fully take in his appearence. 6'2...brown hair...tapered waist...muscular build...and the bluest eyes he's ever seen. Charles swallowed again, fully aware that everyone in the diner was now watching them. Rose-man stood, not coming up to the strangers full height and got in his face, gritting his teeth he turned at looked at Charles. Charles found his voice and spoke softly. "Which one was it. I'd like to know what I'm worth." The Stranger looked at him with soft eyes before turning back to Rose-man, steeling his expression again. Rose-man smirked and turned, pulling out a 20 dollar bill from his wallet and tossing it on the table. "It was 200." He looked at Charles, looking him up and down before coninuing, "And now I'm thinking it wouldn't have been enough."

Charles' expression crumpled and he looked down at his feet, swallowing. The sound of a struggle made him look up. The stranger was holding the man by his t-shirt, his grip tight and his jaw clenched, he spoke in a low voice, clearly annunciating each word. "Do not. Come back here. Ever." He gave the man one last shove toward the door and then let him go, watching him leave and then turning to Charles, his eyes turning soft again. Charles gave him a small smile. "...Thank you. I'm surprised you said anything at all."  
>The stranger shrugged lightly and straightened out his leather jacket, running a hand through his hair.<br>"He needed to be put in his place. No one deserves to be treated like that."

Charles nodded softly and said nothing, glad that the other diner patrons had returned to their own conversations and meals. The two men looked at each other for a few minutes before the stranger nodded and shoved his hands in his pockets. "Have a good one." And with that he turned and walked out of the diner, leaving Charles standing with visible hearts in his eyes and his stomach in knots.


	2. Chapter 2

HI GUYS. So, I'm a little delayed with writing this, I'm moving to London and have been trying to move out of my NYC apartment. (And if anyone knows how crazy and frustrating trying to move in Manhattan is..then you can feel my pain.) I got a few questions regarding the movie Enough; here's the scoop: My friend had it on the other night and I caught the first 20 minutes of it and that's it. I read up on it and yes, it's pretty fucking sad. ALAS, this story has nothing to do with that plot-line whatsoever apart from what I took from the one scene I saw. No worries. Erik is not a wifebeater. Or...husband beater, rather. Anyway, I'm looking for someone to co-write this story with me because of how busy I am. Send me a message if you're interested.

Sorry for the cocktease of a chapter. 3 xx


	3. Chapter 3

Charles didn't know much about being in love, or really even liking someone. He had dated in high school, girls and guys, but they hadn't ever been anything real. So when he found himself with thoughts dominated by Mystery Man – the one who had probably saved him from loads of heartache – he had no clue how to proceed. Charles found himself constantly looking at that table, but for the past week it had been anyone but Mystery Man. An elderly couple on Sunday, a lone straggler on Thursday. And the days in between that he worked, Charles kept his eyes firmly on the table, expecting the man to walk in at any moment and sweep him off his feet. Hank told him he should forget about it, and Charles always took Hank's advice because Hank usually knew best. But something about this man, and what he had done for him, made it hard to forget. And Charles was never one to give up, even when most said it was a lost cause.

So, he kept his hopes up, and his eyes trained on that table.

Charles wiped down the front counter forlornly, counting the seconds until he could get out of the diner. It wasn't packed, just few customers here and there, and the fact that Charles was forced to stay until the very end of his shift irritated the hell out of him. Hank walked past him, patting him on the shoulder in a comforting manner. Charles ignored it dutifully and he didn't miss Hank's slight chuckle. Charles could never be angry at Hank, and Hank knew as such. Charles was upset with himself for letting himself be hung up over a man who's name was even a mystery. The bell of the door jingled and Charles spared it a slight glance, purely out of habit. And when he saw none other than Mystery Man walk in with two single, white roses in hand, Charles froze. They locked eyes, and the man took a seat at the front counter, shooting him a soft smile. This was what he'd been waiting for. To see the man again, and discover those blue eyes again. But when faced with the actual moment he had yearned for days for, Charles found himself frozen, muscles going into a petrified state. It took about 30 seconds before his mind caught up with his body and Charles fled. He sprinted behind the counters, nearly knocking Hank over in the process and hid in the back room, closing the door, leaning against it and taking deep breaths. It wasn't until Hank came in, eyebrows raised in disbelief that Charles fully understood what he had done. He had just blown off the exact man he'd been waiting for. And now, he was probably under the impression Charles had no interest and whatever hope Charles had of knowing the man's name had been squashed. Like a bug. Dead.

"Oh God, oh god, I can't.." Charles ran a hand over his face in shock. "Did I really just do that?"

Hank grinned. "You most certainly did. And you didn't even hesitate! You just took off. In all the years I've known you, never have I seen you go that fast." Hank was teasing Charles, only adding to the other mans agitation.

"I can't face him after that..He'll think I'm a coward.." Hank squeezed his shoulder. "Is he still here?"

"Why don't you check?" Hank proceeded to begin washing dishes, whistling some type of merry tune. Charles took his advice and leaned out of the door an inch, only to have the man's eyes meet his and Charles withdraw his head quickly. Steam rose up from where Hank was spraying the dishes with scorching water, and Charles frowned through it.

"He's still there," Charles shifted his footing nervously. "Do you think I should go out there?"

"Of course. He still hasn't been served." Charles could see the mischievous grin even through the steam. Charles groaned and patted down his pockets, making sure he had his pad before bravely marching through the door. More customers had accumulated, and Charles determinedly took their orders first, giving them to the cook behind the window. Finally, when there were no more orders to take and everybody was happy with service, he walked to the man with a nervous stride.

"What can I get for you?" Charles attempted to be all business, but when blue eyes met his, his brain's functions were temporarily shut down.

"Just water." At this, Charles made to turn around and fill the simple order, but his next words stopped him cold. "And, your name."

Luckily, Charles' back was turned, so maybe the man didn't see the immediate grin that split his face. He turned back slowly, attempting to wipe the smile off his face. "Charles Xavier. And who do I owe the pleasure to?"

"Lensherr, Erik Lensherr." It was wonderful to finally have a name to the face in his head. "And Charles, this is for you."

Erik held out one white rose, tenderly, and Charles accepted it graciously, smiling the whole time. He sniffed it gently, the soft scent wafting up to his nose and nearly melting his heart.

"What is this for?" Charles continued to smile, examining Erik's face. The eyes were still amazingly blue, different from his own somehow. He took notice of the stylish leather jacket thrown over a turtleneck and the Bulova watch on his left wrist. Charles, coming from a wealth background himself, had never let money bias him on a man or woman, but the fact that Erik seemed to take care of himself – and did it well – gave Charles a nice feeling. It just added to Charles' quickly growing list of magnificent things about the man.

"Just as an apology. For the other day when I was in here, and I got rough with that awful man."

Charles beamed, only slightly put off by the memory. "No, I should thank you. You probably saved me from a lot of pain for when he fucked me and never called me back." His lips tilted up in a sweet smile, unconsciously luring Erik in. Charles curiously eyed the other rose, questioning it's existence. Was it for him also, or did he have to deliver it to another damsel in distress?He decided not to ask, and walked back to the kitchen to get the mans water, ignoring Hank's shouted questions as he carried out other orders. Charles delivered the water, promptly setting it next to the other white rose.

"Thank you. And this one is also for you." Erik handed Charles the rose with a playful smile.

Surprised and extremely pleased, Charles' eyebrows rose to his forehead. "What is this one for? Also an apology rose?"

"No, I figured this one could be used for a much more pleasing purpose." Erik continued to smile, and Charles was distracted by the whites of his teeth and the curve of his lips. Erik was gorgeous, and Charles wondered how old the man could be.

"This one, ...is to request a date with you." Erik inquired holding the rose out to Charles.

Naturally, Charles was a tease. "But, Mr. Lensherr, I hardly know you."

"That, is what a first date is for, Charles." Erik smirked, cocky.

Grinning, Charles nodded. "I'm free any weekend. I don't work then." Charles leaned on the counter, towards the man, eager.

"I'll be back for the details. Just knowing you'll go to dinner with me is enough for now."

Then he left, confusing Charles to no end. And even so, Charles had to smile, Mystery Man had come back. _Erik _had come back. Nothing and no one could wipe the stupid grin from his face.


End file.
